The Yew Bushes
by HoneySim
Summary: Draco Malfoy was an only child with the predicament of not being able to choose between instinct and priority. When people look at Draco Malfoy they see a posh, arrogant boy, but really he's dealing with inner problems. This is the story of Draco Malfoy ranting to his peacock.


A/N: This is my first fic and I personally think it's amazing. I tried to be the most accurate with my facts about the plot. Also my one friend Angelcat8 gave me the main idea for this story, and she laughed whenever I misspelled something or couldn't type right (she even had to correct this sentence bc I typed 'for' instead of 'or'). She's also very upset that I didn't make Drarry canon in this fic. And, yes, I do know that this peacock lives way longer than the average peacock does. He's a magical peacock, thank you very much.

Disclaimer: I'm unfortunately not JKR, so none of these characters are really mine except for the peacock. Trust me if I was JKR I would have a car and a British accent.

Warnings: This fic gets increasingly very depressing (if you wish to still read and not be depressed stop reading when you see June 30, 1995). There are also mentions of torture as well.

* * *

July 31, 1991

Today was a fine clear, day at Malfoy Manor. I was walking on top of my yew hedge when the Little Blond Boy came running up to me.

"Sir Plumsburg," the little boy screamed. "I need to talk to you!" He was running about the front garden trying to find me.

I subconsciously rolled my eyes at the little boy. He has been bothering me with his thoughts and fears for about a year now. I tried to avoid him, but he found me anyway.

"Oh, thank Merlin I found you, Sir Plumsburg," the little boy squeaked while whipping away sweat from his forehead. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't allow that. "I don't know if I'm going to make it into the Slytherin house! I'm so worried Plumsburg."

If I could only hate one thing in the world it would be people forgetting my title. I ruffled my feathers and the boy backed up a bit, but he continued anyway.

"I have a plan to make sure I'm in Slytherin. I'm going to learn Occlumency before I go in front of the Sorting Hat."

I shook my head. The little boy couldn't possibly learn Occlumency in a month. Plus if he was thinking like that he'd automatically be sorted into Slytherin for being so cunning anyway.

"Oh, oh. Guess what else!" I just had to assume that was a rhetorical question because peacocks cannot speak— even magical ones like myself.

"I met this boy in the robe shop today. He seemed pretty interesting, but he didn't talk very much. He had cute ruffled black hair and piercing green eyes."

It was at that point, I Sir Plumsburg the Peacock of Malfoy Manor, would never be able to shake this kid and his obsessions away.

The little Malfoy boy went on for at least another hour about topics I deemed absolutely useless to me. Then, finally, Lady Malfoy called him back for dinner.

* * *

December 23, 1991

It was a peaceful few months without the Little Blond Boy running around. But those few months went by all too quickly.

The Little Blond Boy came bursting through the doors and ran towards me. He nearly tackled me, but I leaped away just before he could touch me.

"Sir Plumsburg! Sir Plumsburg! I have so much to tell you," he started pacing in front of me. "I ruined my chances with the boy!" He was nearly crying. "The boy I met in the robe shop, it was _the_ Harry Potter! I insulted the Weasley boy, and Potter got all defensive and when I asked him to be my friend he totally denied me, and now he totally hates me and I have to pretend to hate him as well, or else it would be awkward."

The kid was being so overdramatic, but I had to sympathize at least a little bit. It was a little sad that the boy lost a potential friend.

"Well, at least I got into Slytherin," he said whipping away a few tears.

* * *

June 30, 1993

I had a year to myself, a beautiful year without the Little Blond Boy bothering me.

"SIR PLUMSBURG!" The boy ran through the doors of the manor, while dropping his bags, to greet me once again.

I heard the Malfoy Lord say, "He didn't even great us." I looked over and saw both Lord and Lady Malfoy standing in the door frame looking astonished.

"I got on the Quidditch team! It was an awesome year. I even almost beat Potter. He's the youngest seeker in a century you know!" I did, very well, know that fact already. The Little Blond Boy only mentioned it about twenty times last year over the summer.

"There was a dueling club this year! I was one of the first demonstrators, and guess who I was demonstrating with? _The_ Harry Potter! I'm pretty sure I won as well. There was no real winner but I was the last one to cast a spell!" The boy was beaming, but his smile quickly faded. "I also might have accidentally been the reason everyone thinks he's evil as well. I sent out a snake during the duel and it turns out he's a Parselmouth." I shook my head at that comment. The poor boy always had such bad luck when it came to interacting with the Potter boy.

"Crabbe and Goyle acted weird for a day. They were asking weird questions, and it turns out Goyle can read! Who would have thought, right?" I had to laugh at that one. I have to admit it was at that point the not-so-little blond boy started to grow on me.

He continued to talk to me throughout the summer, bouncing ideas off of me about befriending the Potter child, and quidditch practices. He was a very enthusiastic boy. He was growing fast as well. Even though it pains me to say this, it upset me when he left for school again.

* * *

September 2, 1993

It was just after sunset when the doors to the manor opened and the Malfoy Lord walked out. He proceeded to walk towards me.

"Hello, Sir Plumsburg. I'm terribly sorry, but Draco wanted me to deliver you a letter," the Malfoy Lord sighed. He conjured up a chair and sat down in front of me. "I'm assuming you can't read, so I'll read it aloud to you." I nodded when the Lord looked up for confirmation.

"Alright, well, here I go. _Dear Sir Plumsburg, I am missing you terribly. It has been the worst two days of my life and I really need somebody to rant to. Half-way through the train ride to Hogwarts dementors came and scoped out the whole train. It felt like I'd never be happy again. It was a scary experience. Then the official first day of school I went to my Care of Magical Creatures class and there were three great big hippogriffs. I was scared at first, but then Potter approached one and even flew on it, so I figured I could do it as well. I approached one and did everything right. I bowed and got its approval, but then I may have accidentally insulted it. It slashed at me and I put my arm up to protect my face and it almost broke my arm. I was on the ground in so much pain. These past few days were terrible for me. Thank you for listening to me_ _Sir Plumsburg, or I guess my father will be telling this to you, so thank you for listening to him. With love, Draco._ "

I was absolutely horrified when Lord Malfoy said that the Blond Boy had been attacked by a hippogriff. It apparently showed in my reaction as well.

"He'll be alright, Sir Plumsburg. Don't worry," the Malfoy Lord reassured me. I nodded in recognition. The Lord then sighed and left, making the chair disappear as he was walking away. Then I heard him mutter, "Why does my own son confide in a peacock more than me does me? I just don't simply understand it," his voice was slowly fading away.

I was still upset, and what kind of school has dementor checks on trains? I don't ruddy well care if there's an insane murderer on the loose! These demetors affected my not-so-little little blond boy! That's just not fair! If I had more power I would sue the school myself, but I unfortunately cannot do so, for I am a peacock. I shook my head in disbelief. I hope the Blond Boy comes home for Christmas this year so I know he's okay.

* * *

August 10, 1994

"Sir Plumsburg, guess what! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!" I really started to like whenever the Blond Boy came running to me with information that he was excited about. It makes me excited too.

"Father got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup! This is a once in a life time experience! I can't wait to go! It's Ireland vs. Bulgaria. We're sitting in the top box with the Minister of Magic! It's going to be amazing!"

* * *

December 25, 1994

There was snow on the ground. I always loved when it snows. I blend in with the ground. It's that reason that Lady Malfoy couldn't find me. She was yelling for me. I walked over to her.

"Hello, Sir Plumsburg. I have a message from Draco for you. He specifically told me not to show my husband, so this should be interesting."

I nodded. I could only imagine what could possibly be held in the letter.

" _Hello again Sir Plumsburg, I'm sorry that I couldn't come home for Christmas this year, but it was suggested that we stay at the school and be good hosts over the holiday. As I'm sure you are well aware, Hogwarts is hosting the Triwizard Tournament, and somehow Harry bloody Potter got in. He's not even of age for Merlin's sake! But secretly, and you can't tell anyone this especially Father, I think he's going to win. You'll never guess what the first task was. THEY HAD TO DEFEAT A BLODDY DRAGON! It was amazing how Potter did it. He summoned his broom and kept flying around the dragon, and he did it in the shortest amount of time! He was absolutely brilliant! We had a Yule Ball and I went with Pansy Parkinson. I didn't really want to go with her, but everyone else was taken so I had no choice really. I also may or may not have made 'Potter Stinks' badges, that you can't charm to say anything good about them and if you do they just get worse. So that might have not really helped my friendship with Potter, but I'm working on that. Anyway, I hope you are well, and I'll see you when summer starts. With love, Draco._ "

Lady Malfoy recited the letter like she read it over a thousand times. She changed her voice perfectly when needed, and her voice was soft and sweet like she a born to speak. "Denial isn't just a river in Egypt," Lady Malfoy laughed. "He's so in love with the Potter child he doesn't even realize it." I nodded my head enthusiastically in agreement.

"So you agree with me, do you?" She laughed again. "What's even better is Lucius denies it as well." She conjured up a parcel. "This is for you from Draco." She unraveled the parcel to reveal a Slytherin scarf. She laughed as she put it around my neck. It popped against my white feathers. I actually quite liked it.

"Well, I best be off," Lady Malfoy said. "Have a wonderful holiday Sir Plumsburg." I nodded in hopes of portraying the same sentence back. She left after that.

I really like my new scarf. It's warm and cute— not at all like my personality. In my personal opinion the Blond Boy should try to date the Potter child. He seems to really like him and from what I hear they would make a wonderful couple. Plus I would really like to see Lord Malfoy's response to that. I'm rooting for him to get on the Potter child's good side.

* * *

June 30, 1995

The Young Blond Boy came running through the manor doors like he always does when he gets home for the summer holidays. Although this time the Malfoy Lord wasn't standing in the door frame. And this time, the Blond Boy wasn't ecstatic or happy; he was crying.

"Oh Sir Plumsburg, did you know? Did you know?" I was confused. I didn't know what the boy was talking about.

"Did you know that was father is a Death Eater?" The boy finally spit the words out. I was shocked he was asking such a question. I very well did know that fact. Word gets around, even if you are a peacock, plus I've lived here a long time. I nodded my head to insinuate to the boy that I knew.

"Oh Sir Plumsburg, why didn't you tell me?" Tears were streaming down the boy's face. To be fair I am a peacock and cannot speak English. I don't even know what brought this on.

"He's back," the boy sobbed. I paused in shock. If I'm correct about whom the boy is talking of we will all have an interesting future. "He's back, Sir Plumsburg. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He's back." There was so much fear the in boy's voice.

"He already started his death toll as well. He killed one of the Triwizard contestants. Nobody believes that Potter faced him again, but I do. I believe him." The boy paused so he could settle his breathing down. I feel so bad for him. He is truly scared of what might happen. "I know my father is a Death Eater, and there are other people who should be more scared of Him than me, but I just can't shake this bad feeling. He came back with a bang, which nobody believes. He has the advantage of surprise. That advantage isn't good for the rest of the world. I don't want a war to happen, and I don't want to be caught up in it; there's nothing I can do about it," the Blond Boy sighed and plopped down on the ground next to me.

It is times like these I wish I could help him. I walked over to him and leaned up against him. He stroked my feathers, and we sat there in silence for a while.

"I can't let it show that I'm scared. I can't let my feelings get in the way of my life. I must keep living; I do have a reputation to uphold after all." I nodded and we continued to sit in silence for a long time.

* * *

August 31, 1995

"Sir Plumsburg!" The young blond boy was running my way yet again. He was waving papers around. "I was made a Prefect!" I bowed my head in congratulations.

This is the best news I've heard from the boy in a while. I was really happy for him.

"This is the best thing that's happened in a long time. Mother and Father are so proud of me!" I smiled.

"Maybe I could get Potter's attention because of it. I mean with who he is he's probably a Prefect as well." I had to laugh at his comment.

"Was that meant to be a laugh?" The Young Blond Boy asked.

I nodded in response.

He laughed as well.

* * *

December 24, 1995

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sucks."

The young blond boy was home for Christmas and catching me up on his life. "I actually hate her. Literally everyone hates her, but of course she has to like all the Slytherins. So now we have the reputation for being evil, into the Dark Arts, and _now_ we're suck-ups to the worst teacher ever. Just great!" he said while throwing his hands up.

"Oh, also, she just happens to like me the best! Ugh!" I hate it when somebody I hate loves me as well. Oh, that reminds me, I got the Young Blond Boy a Christmas present this year.

I started to walk away to go get it when the boy said, "Okay. I'll just wait here for you then." I rolled my eyes and gave the boy a look.

I came back a couple of seconds later with a neatly wrapped parcel. The boy looked confused. I placed it down at his feet.

"Is that for me?"

I nodded.

He unraveled it and gasped.

He pulled out one of my great white feathers that I had Lady Malfoy take into a shop to get it made into a quill. It is quite lovely if I do say so myself.

"Wow. It's beautiful. Thank you so much Sir Plumsburg!" The boy was beaming. However, his smile quickly faded away. "I haven't gotten you anything this year."

I walked away yet again, wiggled my Slytherin scarf on, and proudly walked back. The boy laughed at how silly I looked showing off the scarf.

"I guess we're even then," he laughed.

* * *

April 5, 1996

It was the Easter Holidays. It was getting warmer out, and I, unfortunately, didn't need my scarf anymore until winter came back around. The Young Boy came home for the holiday.

He was catching me up on a few things when, of course, the Potter boy was mentioned. "He was training an army, Sir Plumsburg! _An army!_ Do you believe it? All on Dumbledore's orders." The boy was certainly exasperated by this fact. "Oh, oh, and guess who had to catch them? Me of course. Merlin, why can't I catch a break when it comes to Potter and being a terrible human being?"

He was clearly upset, and I don't even know how to respond to half the stuff he tells me anymore. I just let out a big sigh.

"Me too, Sir Plumsburg. Me too."

* * *

July 2, 1996

This time around when the Young Blond Boy came home he was in an even worse state than last summer. He wasn't crying though. I think he has learned how to control his emotions; that is a very upsetting thing, a person knowing exactly how to keep it all in, especially for someone so young.

"Hello, Sir Plumsburg," the boy mumbled. I sighed and nudged him when he sat down on the ground. I personally think it's worse when people are glum and 'out of it;' I'd rather people to be crying, at least then I know how to help.

I gave him a look to ask him what's wrong; although I already knew.

"There was a battle at the Ministry of Magic. My father was there, and he got captured. He's in Azkaban now."

There was silence for a while. Finally the boy spoke, "I guess I should tell you what happened before the battle."

He sighed and said, "Well, I was minding my own business when Umbridge yelled for me to help her. I went over to see the Weasleys and Lovegood running around trying to avoid some Slytherins that Umbridge usually gets to help her. I go into her office and see Bulstrode, a fellow Slytherin, pinning the Granger girl to the wall, and Umbridge has Potter by his hair. She tells me to take his wand and I do so. I marveled at it, if I'm being honest." The boy paused and sighed again.

"Then the other Slytherins come in with the Weasleys, Lovegood, and surprisingly Longbottom all gaged and held back. I was sitting there trying not to let the shock of what was happening show on my face." He paused to take a deep breath.

"Things happened, people struggled, Snape came in, a bunch of lies were said, one thing led to another, and Umbridge decided to use the Cruciatus Curse on Potter. I was so shocked. I tried to hide it but it didn't work very well, and I made a weird face and I think they all thought I was happy about it. Which I totally wasn't! I wanted to stop her. In fact I was about to scream and jump in front of him—," my eyes widened at that statement.

"I know, I know. That's very unlike me. I just wasn't thinking, okay?" I settled down a little bit. "—but luckily for me the Granger girl screamed and came up with a brilliant lie. I could tell she was lying from all of the other's faces; even the Lovegood girl was a little shocked.

"Umbridge fell for it and let them lead her out of the castle. I said that I should go with her, but she thought I was after what they were looking for. I just wanted to make sure Potter and Granger were going to be okay. They were unarmed after all.

"As soon as they left I started thinking of a way I could get the other four prisoners out of the office to go help Potter and Granger without making it look like I did it. I started to 'threaten' the Weasley girl, and I 'accidentally' hit the Slytherin girl that was holding her with a stunning spell. I winked and the Weasley girl caught on very fast. Amongst the commotion that I started she asked me what I was doing and I told her if she ever told anyone what I did she'd be dead, so she decided to make it look like I wasn't on their side by hitting me with a Bat-Bogey Hex. That girl is smarter than what everyone thinks.

"Well that's my side of the story. As for how I feel about my father in prison and it basically being Potter's fault; I can't really blame him. From what I've overheard, the Dark Lord placed fake thoughts in Potter's head that led him to the Ministry. Getting caught is my father's fault. Sure, I'm not happy he's gone; In fact it's devastating. Mother doesn't know what to do with herself. She locks herself in the study night and day." The boy had a far off look on his face.

How on earth was I supposed to respond to that story? The Young Blonde Boy and I just sat together for hours in silence. I think that helps him the most, being able to tell somebody, without any real judgement coming back at him. Also I think it helps just being able to sit in perfect silence with somebody, without the need to think or talk.

* * *

July 14, 1996

The Not-So-Young-Looking Blond Boy dragged himself outside to talk to me. His eyes were heavy and had bags under them. He looked far from well maintained. As soon as he got to me he collapsed onto the ground. He looked so tired.

He looked up and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was shaking. He lifted up his arm and carefully pulled up his sleeve. There it was. The Dark Mark etched upon his forearm.

I was shocked, but I didn't let it show; much like how the boy doesn't let his sadness show anymore, if you could even call it sadness at this point.

The boy opened and closed his mouth a few more times in attempt to speak before he actually did. "I— I had no choice," he whispered so I could barely hear him.

He laid there in silence, not making any movements, barely even blinking. I laid with him. That's all I could think to do. I hate to see what has become of my Little Energetic Blond Boy. It seems as if he's lifeless now.

* * *

August 3, 1996

Apparently the boy puts on a figurative mask when he's out. He seems like his "usual self," even though his usual self isn't himself at all. He puts on a façade of arrogance mixed with hatred and sneering, but his mask is on now more than ever.

The Dark Lord is strict and doesn't want his Death Eaters being caught; he tells them to live life normally and, if need be, mess with the Potter child's head. That's exactly what the Malfoys did.

"It happened all so fast, Sir Plumsburg. It's bad enough I had to be rude to him to keep a reputation, but now it's be rude or death. There was a heated moment where Potter brought my father into the mess, and it visibly hurt my Mother. I got angry then. That was the only true time I got angry with Potter. But, then Mother said something that hurt him even more. It was in reference to his Godfather, Sirius Black, being dead."

The boy sighed and I mimicked him.

"I just don't want to be in this mess anymore." The blond boy gasped in remembrance of something and then sighed again. "You should know, _He_ has given me a job to do."

If I had eyebrows they would have shot up. The Dark Lord gave a 16 year old a job to do. Who the ruddy hell does he think he is… well I mean— who the hell gives a 16 year old a "job to do?" I just can't believe this is what the poor Blond Boy's life has come to.

"It's nearly impossible and I don't know how I'm going to do it. I can't even tell you what it is. I'm under oath and if I break it— well… I'm sure you could imagine what would happen," he was on the verge of tears by the last sentence, but he quickly put his mask on and left.

I felt like hugging the boy, but seeing as I have no arms I couldn't exactly do that. I just wish I could do more for him, be there for him all the time, and help him with things instead of just being a peacock to talk to.

* * *

August 3, 1997

From what the damaged Blond Boy has told me he has witnessed death twice already, he has been the cause of at least two people's injuries, and now he has tortured.

"He said if I didn't do it I would be in Rowle's place. I had to keep doing it."

The boy looked down ashamed of himself. I wanted to tell him it's not his fault that he has no control over what is done anymore, but unfortunately I couldn't say that so I tried to convey it in a nuzzle.

I think he understood me because he said, "I know."

I just wish we could go back to the times when the biggest problem was the boy not admitting he liked the Potter child. I truly wish he wasn't apart of this war. I wish he was just an innocent bystander who barely has any clue of what's going on. I just don't know what to say anymore.

* * *

April 14, 1998

The Blond Boy appeared around the corner of the huge manor. He snuck over to me. This is the first time he has ever done this.

As he approached I noticed bruises and cuts all over his face, and he was pallor.

"Sir Plumsburg I owe you an explanation of what happened a few nights ago. I've only just been able to get away. They have us confined to the house; they're torturing us, even more so than usual.

"I'm assuming you noticed the snatchers coming in with a bunch of prisoners. Well, one of those prisoners was Harry Potter. They asked me to identify that it really was him because the Granger girl jinxed him to look different. She's quiet clever, but me being me I noticed it was him right away. I didn't say anything. Father said if we were the ones to turn him in all would be forgiven, but I couldn't do it. If I turned him in that would mean he would die. I can't have that on my shoulders.

"I witnessed Bellatrix torturing the Granger girl. She was begging for her life, and I couldn't do anything to stop my aunt. I just had to stand there and watch.

"Harry's face ended up going back to normal, and everyone knew it was him. He took the wands I was holding, including my own. I didn't really try to fight him when he took them. They luckily got away. But not so lucky for us, the Dark Lord is way over the top angry and confined us to the worst he could think of."

He paused then there was a loud noise from inside the house. The broken Blond Boy gasped, apologized to me, and ran away.

It's equally horrible and wonderful that he put his life in peril to save another's. It kills me that he looked the way he did. He looked shabby and broken, both mentally and physically. I hope this all ends. If I could, I would personally kill the Dark Lord for what he has done to my Little Blond Boy.

* * *

June 17, 1999

Things were better in the world. The Dark Lord was defeated; however, the Blond Boy still doesn't talk about the night of the war. He refuses to even tell me. I can only imagine what happened that night. The Malfoys were luckily not sent to Azkaban for their 'crimes.' Lord Malfoy exchanged names of Death Eaters for freedom. Although it doesn't seem as if they are truly free.

"People will always condemn me for my mistakes," the Young Blond Man said. "For Merlin's sake they aren't even my mistakes. I was forced into everything."

I nodded my head in agreeance.

We sat together in peaceful silence for what feels like the first time in forever.

* * *

March 17, 2006

It was a fine Friday afternoon. It was unusually warm outside, but there was still a breeze. The doors to Malfoy Manor opened up yet again. A young blond man walked out gracefully holding a bundle. The Blond Man's wife stood in the doorway smiling and shaking her head.

"Hello Sir Plumsburg," he said as he approached. Excitement was laced in the man's voice, but it was hidden under a whisper. As he came closer I could see that the bundle was a newborn child. The child looked as if he would grow up to look exactly like his father.

"Sir Plumsburg," the Blond Man said with a wide smile, "I would like you to meet Scorpius Hyperion. He's just beautiful isn't he?"

I nodded; however, I was still slightly mad that the Blond Man didn't marry Potter. I, personally, thought they were destined to be, but apparently not.

I couldn't stay mad for very long anyway, because the Blond Man was always so happy now-a-days. That's exactly what I wished for him a long time ago. He has truly found his happiness, and happiness is contagious for me.

The new little blond baby was in fact adorable; I have to admit that. I can't wait to watch him grow up like I did his father.

The Blond Boys stayed outside a little longer. I was playing with the new little blond boy until his mother called them in. I'm happy my Little Blond Boy has a new little blond boy.

* * *

August 31, 2012

The New Little Blond Boy came running out of the manor doors. His father was standing in the door way getting ready to walk down himself. The mother would normally be there for the Young Blond Man to kiss on the cheek, but she has been considerably ill lately. She keeps getting sick, then healing, then getting sick again; it's an unfortunate cycle.

The New Little Blond Boy was energetically running around me yelling, "Sir Plumsburg, Sir Plumsburg, look at me! I'm flying!" He was pretending to be on a broomstick.

His father did not reprimand him for running around in company of someone else; he didn't want to raise his child as he was raised. He wanted his child to live a free life where he chooses what to do.

I wish I could keep up with the little bugger, but I'm too old for that now. It's getting harder for me to run around like I used to with the Young Blond Man.

The Man noticed this and asked if I wanted to be left alone. I shook my head and tried to chase after the New Little Blond Boy. I had to stop after a minute or so. I sighed as a plopped down on the ground. The Young Blond Man summoned one of his house elves and asked him to go play with the Little Blond Boy in the back garden.

The house elf took the New Little Blond Boy's hand and led him to the back garden as the Young Blond Man plopped down next to me.

"Are you alright Sir Plumsburg?"

I nodded but he didn't buy it.

"Don't lie to me, Sir Plumsburg," he said it firm but gently.

I gave him a look and he sighed.

"You're dying, aren't you?"

I didn't dare make a move or even take a breath. He was right but I didn't want to admit it to him.

He sighed and looked down. "Maybe we could get a healer to help you."

I shook my head. A healer wouldn't be able to prolong my already prolonged life. I lived for 27 years. That's almost double than normal peacocks and longer than magical ones. I was happy with my life; however I will miss the company of my Little Blond Boys. We will be reunited one day though, hopefully later than sooner.

The Young Blond Man looked sad. I could tell he wanted to cry, but he still had his mask from all those years ago. We sat together in that welcoming silence for the last time. The sun set and then the stars came out. It was a beautiful clear night. It was perfect for a last night.

The New Little Blond Boy came back to the yew bushes, he patted my head, and then laid next to his father. He fell asleep within five minutes. It was the most perfect night. You could hear all the crickets chirping.

The Young Blond Man huffed and got up. He bade me farewell, but he didn't know that would be the last time he did so. The Young Blond Man picked up his child and walked back into the manor.

I laid there for the rest of the night. It's upsetting to think that when I'm gone the Young Blond Man won't have anyone to talk to about my absence, and the New Little Blond Boy won't have anyone to play with or talk to when he grows up.

I will miss my Little Blond Boys. I started to stir a little to change positions and then—

* * *

A/N: This got continuously harder to write, and it got really sad. I listened to my friend when she read this, and she actually started crying. I was crying along with her, but I was also maniacally laughing.


End file.
